


Stay With Me

by Fall Out Frenzy (priince22ofzen)



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (2010), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:44:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priince22ofzen/pseuds/Fall%20Out%20Frenzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you make better connections with someone you've been moaning at through a phone for two months.</p><p>Somewhat unconventional HiJack. Also posted on Tumblr~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He wasn't going to last much longer. 

Then again, he never did when he got hold of that particular operator.

Hiccup had never met Jack Frost face to face, but after the first month or two - calling and asking for him nearly once a week now - it didn't bother him so much. His voice was enough, and he had weaved plenty of fantasies based on explanations or the words spilling through the phone, the ones telling him what his 'partner' looked like. The brunet's fingers curled just right around his shaft, he dragged his palm up with a soft whine and pressed his thumb over the slit. 

"Hiccup, stay with me~" Jack's voice purred on the other end of the phone, the dull glow from the LCD screen illuminating the boy's freckles. Hiccup imagined warm breath across the shell of his ear, eyes closed tightly as he thought about what Jack's weight might feel like straddling his hips in that chair. His hips canted up at the image of what may have been pale skin, lips tilted in a handsome smirk that nearly made him lose it right there. 

"J-Jack," Hiccup's moan fluttered in his throat as a shaking hand pressed against his forehead. The cell phone was warm, from being used for so long. His other hand worked as slowly as he could manage, this close to release, thumb making small circles over the head of his cock, smearing pre-cum over the sensitive skin. "I'm...s-so close, I need to...ahn...!" 

He was so glad he was in a single dorm this year. The poor boy realized that he was rather loud when it came to this.

A low chuckle came from the receiver, static from the connection weaving into that beautiful tone that the brunet couldn't get enough of. "How close...? Thinking about what I'd feel like inside you, huh~? I'd like to find the patterns in your freckles...with my tongue, of course," He wondered if Jack enjoyed this as much as he did - but he never asked. It was work, for the other boy. But wouldn't he stop taking the requested calls if he didn't like it? Did he go home after work and imagine fucking the freckled client into the nearest wall--?

Hiccup hadn't realized he'd been picking up speed as he lost his train of thought, brow furrowing a little when a louder whimper slipped free of his lips. Slightly-crooked teeth sank into his lower lip, trying to stifle the noise.

"It's alright, Hiccup," that voice again, warm and reassuring. "You've lasted a lot longer than normal. Why don't you come for me, Snowflake~?" 

Imaginary fingertips ghosted across the brunet's jawline, that curious nickname that Hiccup somehow knew was his alone, and his own fingers curled a little more tightly around his aching sex. A few more upstrokes and a stroke across the sensitive head brought him to finish, his moan throaty and short as he came onto his own bare stomach. A little of the mess dribbled over his fingers, but it made no difference to him. Slumping back in the chair, sweat sticking idly to the back of his neck, he carefully pressed the phone to his ear again. 

Hiccup's breathing came heavy as they sat there, the connection still up. He imagined Jack may have been grinning at him - he wished he knew what that smile looked like in person. "...Jack," he panted softly, emerald eyes cracking open a bit in the darkness. He wanted to say 'thank you,' but wasn't sure he was supposed to. He was never sure what to do after he was finished. But he never hung up right away. 

This time, though, it was Jack who hesitated. Instead of answering with a teasing laugh, or a drawled out 'yeees~?' he paused. "Hic," when did they get that familiar? That nicknames were a thing? "When do I get to meet you?"

The brunet's heart missed _beats_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...But what was Jack's side of the story?

Work was a pain in the ass. 

Sure, he was good at it - one of the best in the business, actually, and for a 23 year old college student to be making that kind of money? It was living a dream, getting enough to pay off his student loans and feed himself every month, doing something that took very little effort. (He probably would have laughed in the face of every asshole who told him he would never amount to anything, if he wasn't positive one or two people from his high school nightmare actually called him up from time to time.) That didn't make it suck any less. 

Some days were better than others, just like anything else. He worked right from his off-campus apartment, in his pajamas if he wanted to, no one to watch or judge him while he played with his camera and told middle-aged women (and men) how he would "toy idly with your nipple" in some detailed description. At the end of the day, though, Jack was an operator for a sex line, and some of the scummiest people rang in on occasion. 

In the midst of it all, the unthinkable happened. One fateful Saturday evening, sometime between one and three AM, Jackson Overland (Jack Frost, to his clients) got a call from a nasally little voice that only wanted to talk. It wasn't so much a rare thing, because he had people like that from time to time, but there was something inexplicably different about this one.

His name was Hiccup, and that was not an alias. 

It was their third phone call by the time the young man actually asked for the full monty. His voice pitched and cracked around words that evaded his usual vocabulary, and Jack could feel himself smiling against the mouthpiece of his phone. Stretching out on the loveseat, the white-haired man crooned into his client's ear, put more effort than usual into earning little tell-tale whimpers and whines that told him he was saying the right things. He asked what Hiccup looked like, painting a mental image from the shy description of a young brunette with bright green eyes and a spattering of freckles. 

Two months passed like that. He knew he wasn't supposed to, he knew it was unheard of, but by the most recent phone call Jack had made up his mind. Curiosity burned within him, powerful and bright, and he licked dry lips as Hiccup's words came through to him. Telling him how close he was to completion. 

The photographer ached within his boxers. Gods, how he wished he could join in sometimes, but only with Hiccup. No other client had made the right noises, said the right things, done everything so unknowingly that could turn him on quite that much. There was something special about this one - he was not demanding, didn't talk back to him, and Jack always seemed to say exactly what the brunette wanted to hear without any prompting. He wanted to fish out his own cock, close his eyes, and stroke himself in time to the other boy's wanton moaning. To imagine himself pressing that gorgeous body up against the wall, kissing each and every freckle - once, he had asked if there were spots on Hiccup's shoulders as well - and sliding in and out of a hot, deliciously tight space.

Apparently, Hiccup was a virgin. At least, half a virgin.

It didn't frighten him, how much information he had on the kid. Nothing about him scared Jack, not in the least. It only intrigued him further, and his thoughts swam aimlessly, voice distracted when he calmly instructed the brunette to "come for me, Snowflake."

Snowflake. That was right. Hiccup was different, and unique, and so he had dubbed him with that nickname. The boy hadn't protested, so he kept it. It was even written down on his 'regular client' card. 

When Hiccup breathed his name in the afterglow, Jack knew he had to make his decision quick. He could have stayed on the phone listening to the other breathing for hours upon hours, but he had to make it short and quick. Before he changed his mind. 

"Hic, when do I get to meet you?" 

His chest felt tight as he uttered the question. It was really against the rules - if anyone found out, especially his boss, he could get into some massive trouble. Then again, some of his co-workers had spouses right? So what was so wrong with him making, at the very least, a new friend? It didn't have to be awkward. He could totally handle seeing the boy in person. He would even be alright with it if they didn't get into anything physical.

He had learned a thing or two about Hiccup in the last two months. The reality of it was, the brunette was lonely. And maybe, just maybe...so was Jack. 

Silence lasted a moment too long, enough to make him uncomfortable again. But Hiccup eventually spoke. "A-are you...free tomorrow?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out I've been continuing this beyond five parts...ha. Imagine that. :'D BUT. Here's part 3~

Freckled fingertips drummed on the table top, a decaf soy mocha sitting untouched on the surface beside him. Hiccup dragged his lower lip beneath a row of slightly-crooked teeth, chewing at it, brow creased in worry and stomach churning too much for him to even bother with the coffee. (Even if it was his favorite.)

He had never been so nervous in his entire life.

What did he expect? The brunet picked at the aged wood of his little table, scraping out the dirt that gathered beneath his nails in the process because what kind of impression would that have been? He didn't know exactly what the other man looked like. He didn't know how old Jack was, or if they would know what to talk about when they did find each other; what if their dynamic was different in person? Not that they really _had_ a dynamic, the boy realized with a wince. They barely said anything to each other over the phone, save for Jack's husky whispers and little chuckles when Hiccup squeaked.

Oh gods, he _squeaked_. The memory made his cheeks burn beneath hundreds of freckles. 

This was going to be so, so horrible.

Jack had pressed himself into the tiny back corner table several minutes before Hiccup had even arrived, ordered what he could have guessed was his usual, and had sat as a bundle of nerves three tables down without even a glance at his surroundings. His iced vanilla chai and skim milk combo had long since procured a thin layer of condensation on the outside of his cup, but he couldn't bring himself to touch it. He was too busy staring unabashedly at freckle-dotted skin that didn't seem too friendly with the sun. A thumbnail drew between his teeth thoughtfully while he studied, drinking in shifting emerald eyes and a mess of auburn hair. 

There wasn't even a shadow of a doubt in his mind just who the nerved-up boy was. Not that the awkward fiddling with the table was any sort of clue, but there just weren't that many people nowadays that came around with an appearance like his-- and what an 'appearance' it was. Jack couldn't help but smile at the fact that nothing he could ever dream up, would ever hold a candle to the real thing. He always knew Hiccup would be beautiful...but this? 

The brunet finally calmed himself enough to reach for his coffee, reminding himself repeatedly that everything was going to be alright. He would probably mess this up, and stumble all over himself and his words, but it was okay. If the worst should happen, well...they could just go back to the weekly phone sex and pretend this meeting never happened. Right? Right. 

A hum of satisfaction left Jack's throat as he stood, cup in hand, and strolled casually up behind the boy as quietly as he dared. Leaning down ever so sightly, and with a tone he was famous in his work for, he spoke right up against the shell of Hiccup's ear. "You wouldn't happen to be my little Snowflake, would you...?"

Taking a sip from the drink, fingers trembled around the cup. Hiccup had definitely not expected that voice to echo so close to his ear, the warm breath washing over his skin as though one of his tightly-woven fantasies sprang to life, and his head spun at the possibility. There were lips against the shell of his ear, the familiar nickname and before he realized what he was doing, the brunet jolted in surprise. A shocked yelp dropped from his mouth and he pushed his chair back quickly, knocking over the cup and sending sixteen ounces of hot mocha over his thighs and the table. 

"Crap--!" Hiccup's voice cracked and his head whipped around, wide emerald eyes catching a bright, breathtaking shade of blue and making the air snag in his throat. Oh. _Oh_. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, pulse picking up an erratic pace that nearly sang out to the stranger. Only, he wasn't a stranger. 

Skin pale like the moonlight, taller than he was and slender, hair a mess of silvery-white that stuck up in an unruly mess, and a winning smile revealing absolutely _perfect_ teeth. Oh, gods. Hiccup's every daydream had not prepared him for this. He let his jaw click shut, mind musing over details. "....Jack?"

Speaking of hot things, there was the rather pressing issue of , _hot coffee_ on his thighs, and he staggered to his feet with the realization. Not even thinking about cleaning up the mess, a curse slipped from his mouth as he fanned at the soaked denim to cool it down. The skin beneath still burned a little, but at least it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

The addressed young man had absolutely not intended for that to happen. Drawing back quickly with that same smile in place, he held his hands up automatically in case some of the spilled coffee decided to splash up onto him. Frozen for a moment at the absolute ridiculousness of it all, he tried very hard not to laugh. Not at Hiccup, not at all - but he had never seen someone look so _absolutely adorable_ before. "Whoops," the simple word slipped out, and Jack finally gave himself over to a little chuckle as he reached for the napkin dispenser. 

"Sorry about that," he offered his best apologetic smile and a handful of napkins to the brunet, who returned the grin sheepishly as a lovely shade of red bloomed across his cheeks. "I probably should have warned you first." Really, he knew how shy his client was, and how much of an effect just his voice had. 

Blotting at his pants and thanking the gods that it wasn't as bad as it could have been, Hiccup shrugged a bit, settling back into his seat. His fingers were still trembling a bit when he wiped up the table next, setting the emptied cup right and not looking up at his company. His heart beat like the drums of war in his chest, mind on overdrive, telling him repeatedly that this was Jack. Jack was here, Jack was real, Jack was not just a voice, not just the name he'd been moaning into the phone for the last two months. 

"Don't worry about it," the brunet cleared his throat when his voice cracked again. Stuffing the soaked napkins into the empty cup, he dragged his chair along the floor with a wince and scooted closer to the table once more. "Um, d-do you wanna sit down, or...?" Finally, he looked up. He got a good, real and lingering look at Jack...and his throat ran dry again. Hiccup found himself suddenly overwhelmed with the intense urge to paint the older (he assumed?) man. Time to make some sad attempt at small talk.

Warmed by the invitation, Jack settled into the chair across from the freckled boy and gave his untouched chai a nice new home by his side. Conversation was usually his specialty - after all, it was basically what he got paid to do - but there was no phone between them. No safe distance. It was sink or swim time, time to find out if his interest had any merit at all. "So, you're Hiccup?" 

Finally managing to get somewhat of a handle on his nerves, the brunet tipped his head up and nodded a bit. "Yeah, that's me," he supplied, voice still unsteady. Sucking in a breath and hopefully some confidence with it, Hiccup continued. "So, uh, this must be kind of weird for you, huh?" Grabbing the empty paper cup, he brought it closer to himself and picked at the lip. 

The blue-eyed male took a moment to puzzle over the question, lips quirking in confusion. "How so? You mean meeting a client in person?" He didn't take a moment at all to mull over the fact that the word 'client' didn't really fit the situation anymore. (He also didn't notice how Hiccup had this really cute habit of chewing at his lower lip, or that his teeth were just the tiniest bit crooked and it fit really well with his smile.) "It's definitely outside of my usual habits, but it isn't really weird. After all, it isn't like you're a middle-aged man with a massive body odor problem and a fetish for boys in short skirts."

Immediately, the brunet's cheeks flushed again. He didn't know if they would ever go back to their normal color after today. "Do you, er, have clients like that...?" Was he allowed to ask that? Did they do client confidentiality? 

Jack didn't seem bothered by the question, simply shrugging and picking at the plastic lid to his drink. "Now and then," he chuckled, shaking his head a little. "You'd be surprised at the variety I get. I've been doin' this for...man, probably close to three years now? Since I started college, at least. A lot of people look down on it, but it's actually a respectable job, and if you're good at it you can make some insane money." 

As ridiculous as it seemed, Hiccup felt himself relaxing just from the familiarity of his companion's voice. Two months of daydreaming about a conversation like this, a simple face to face and friendly words, did absolutely no justice for the feeling of the real thing. Getting comfortable in increments, he nodded understandingly. "I don't think any less of you for it," he supplied; after all, it was how they met. "Have you ever met anyone else before?"

Eyes like the winter sky locked with a curious, mossy gaze. "No," Jack seemed rather proud of that fact, actually, and he absolutely beamed at the brunet. "This is gonna sound a little chick-flick-y, but honestly, I've never _wanted_ to meet any of my regulars. None of them ever stuck out to me. I had to write up cue cards and everything to remember their names, or their kinks, anything like that. Then you came along, and--"

"Wait, wait," Hiccup was quick to interrupt, his eyes widening just a tad at the information. "...Me? I 'stuck out' to you?" At a loss for words, he couldn't think of a more eloquent way of asking. "What... _how_?"

When Jack's only response was a furrowed brow and a quizzical expression, the artist ran a hand back through his hair and tried to think of a better way to put things. 

"I mean...Jack, I'm not really anything special," he had to laugh a bit, even as he said what was on his mind, because the thought of anyone taking interest in him seemed positively outlandish. "I'm just some socially inept art major from a small town no one's ever heard of. My best friend is a cat. I'm a twenty-one-year-old virgin--"

"Half-virgin," Jack cut in, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms discontentedly. He was learning quickly that he didn't like to hear the brunet speaking ill of himself.

"...Whatever, half-virgin. The point is," slowing down when he realized he may have said the wrong thing, he shook his head and hunched his shoulders forward, gaze dropping to the table. "I'm not the kind of guy who stands out in a crowd."

After the younger man fell into silence, Jack found himself speechless. Honestly. He had been drawn to Hiccup; he still was, and he was willing to bet that there was an incredible person hidden behind those freckles, waiting for just the right person to convince him it was safe to come out. A few moments passed in the quiet, pale fingers tapping thoughtfully against the table. 

"Alright," he mused at last, voice lined with purpose. "I guess we'll just have to start making meetings a weekly thing, won't we? Sounds like I've got a lot of work to do." The smile that he flashed his companion was brilliant, and painfully sincere. "What do you say, Hic? Feel like hanging out with a shameless hussy once a week and telling me all about you?"

Hiccup was definitely not expecting that kind of reaction. Tipping the cup over again in shock, he quickly righted the thing and stumbled over a syllable or two. "I--I'm sorry, what?" 

"You heard me," Jack propped his elbows onto the table, giving his hopeful the once-over again. "I wanted to meet you, because I got the feeling that you were different. Special. I already know I was right, but you seem to need some convincing. And if it means I get an excuse to see you again, well...As long as you're up for it, I am."

The brunet didn't know what to say. Sitting straight in his chair and considering the fact that he was actually being given an option - he could have said no, could have flat-out refused - he thought about it. All he knew of Jack, besides the little they discussed over the table, was that he had a beautiful voice and knew exactly how to use it. Still, that 'feeling' that the young man was talking about? Hiccup knew it well. He just hadn't been able to work up the nerve to ask for a meeting first.

Swallowing thickly, he decided that he would not let a potential good slip through his fingers. If nothing else, he would at least earn himself a friend out of it. So, with a small smile, he nodded. "As long as you don't mind awkward pauses and conversations about dull art student life," he mused, his smile brightening when Jack laughed. Drawing a deep breath, he sat up just a little straighter. "I'm okay with that."


End file.
